


Girls on Fire

by kenwantsabird



Category: RWBY, RWBY au - Fandom
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Apocalypse, F/F, Family, Gang AU, Gore, Kidnapping, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Love, Missing Persons, Modern Era, Monster - Freeform, Monsters au, Music, Paranormal, Paranormal AU, Romance, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, adventure au, apocalypse au, blake belladonna x Yang Xiao long - Freeform, missing person, multiple POVs, ruby rose x Weiss schnee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24246886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenwantsabird/pseuds/kenwantsabird
Summary: Weiss Schnee was mute.They say it was the result of a car accident: ripped vocal cords. She knew better. But that was years ago.Now, Weiss is seventeen, homeschooled, living with her mother and brother Whitley. She’s stuck-up, lonely, and just wants to feel normal. And when she meets Ruby Rose at an old school teacher’s engagement party, she finally gets a chance at her dream.But the past has a way of catching up to you. The men who took away her voice are back, and she might be the only one who can stop them.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Neopolitan/Roman Torchwick, Pyrrha Nikos/Nora Valkyrie, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 13
Kudos: 125





	1. Prologue: Our Worst Mistakes

It was dark.

That was okay, she liked the dark. In the dark, nothing could see her. It was the blanket she hid under, the shield she held up against the evils of the world. In the dark, she could close her eyes, and pretend that nothing was happening, and everything would feel calm. Better. Like she was safe. 

But Weiss Schnee could hear the yelling. 

Twenty-five feet away, out the door and down the hallway and into the living room. Her father was yelling again, throwing things again, scaring her mother again. Scaring Weiss again. 

Weiss was in her room, in her closet. This was her dark place. Twelve square feet of nothingness, where she could not see or be seen. Not by monsters, not by her father. Whitley, her younger brother, sat beside her, crying, curled up with his head between his knees. He was afraid of the dark, a common enough trait in toddlers. But he was also afraid of the yelling. If Winter was there, she’d comfort him, tell him that everything was okay.

_Winter._

The protector. The sister. She wasn’t there anymore.

And somebody had to protect Whitley.

Weiss was a lot of thing, brave not being one of them. But, sitting in the dark, with her brother broken down beside her, she knew that she had to do something. 

She stood, felt the ache of her muscles, frozen in one position for too long, and opened the closet door. The light of her room shone briefly into the closet, striking Whitley’s pale body, and he looked up at her. “Where are you going?” he whispered.

”I’m going to see Dad.”

”Don’t.” 

”I have to.”

”Please.”

”Winter would have done it.”

“Please,” he grabbed her ankle, and with his face illuminated, she could see the tears on his face, the redness of his cheeks, “he might hurt you.”

”If I don’t, he might come in here and hurt you.”

He stared at her, hands firm around her still.

She met his stare, ”I’m the older one, it’s my job to protect you.”

Seconds passed, then minutes, until the weight of Weiss’ stare overcame Whitely’s will, and he let go. Without a word, Weiss closed the closet door to hide him, and walked out of the room. 

The hallway suggested a happy family. Five pictures were hung on the wall. Her mother, father, two siblings, and herself. Winter’s photo was in a black frame, made to symbolize the fake mourning her parents had gone through when she’d passed away. It was in the middle, between her parents, and her and Whitely. A wall. But the strangers that came every week just saw a girl who was no longer there. They didn’t see what she had once been. 

What Weiss now had to be.

Weiss moved on from the hallway, into the living room where her parents stood. 

Her mother stood at the end of the room. Her evening gown, long and sea foam green, had the dark stains of red wine splattered across its front. Shattered crystal, once and elegant glass to drink from, made a mess of the floor around her. On the other end of the room, closer to Weiss, her father stood, yelling. A large build, white hair, the stench of alcohol reeking off of him. She could feel the beginning of something powerful in her stomach, something that growled and yelled and wanted him to go away. But she didn’t yell, her voice was barely a whisper.

”Papa.”

He froze, and Weiss felt herself freeze too. How had Winter done this?

Her father turned to her, and a smile crossed his face. “Ah Weiss,” his voice was thick and slow, “what could this little princess want now?”

”Why is Mommy crying?” 

”Mommy has been very bad,” he sputtered and laughed, “now go back to bed.”

Weiss gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and uttered the last words she would ever speak.


	2. The Five Pictures

**part one: red like roses**

Today, it has been twelve years since the incident.

Nobody knows, because nobody remembers the date. Nobody but me.

Mother dearest, she only knows it was around this area of time. This week. And she has been properly sober for the occasion, only getting drunk once since Sunday. But today is Friday, and even if she knows that I must be ‘mourning,’ Friday’s are the nights of her parties. She has an important reputation to uphold after all. It’s not like her guests know about what happened anyway. 

I almost hate her for it. _Almost._

”Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to come out to the white room with everyone else?” Whitely asks. He’s standing in the doorway of my room, maybe fifteen feet away from where I stand in front of my mirror. “I assure you, you look just as decent as always.” Normal Whitely, never one to give out a real compliment. _Decent._ I look better than decent, and we both know it.

The Schnee family is not just known for their wealth. We’re known for our beauty as well.

I turn to him. Whitely, as much as I wish I didn’t have to admit it, is a perfect example. Tall, slim, he has a sharp chin and slanted blue eyes. The girls go crazy over him, partly for his looks, and mostly for his fortune. He, of course, also has the trademark Schnee feature. Bright, white hair. We aren’t allowed to dye it, and us girls aren’t allowed to cut it past our shoulders. Our white hair is a symbol of Schnee pride. To hide it would be to disrespect our family.

I try waving him away, but he only walks in further, taking a place beside me. “Here,” he says, frowning as he pulls a hair tie from a nearby dresser, wrapping my hair into a high ponytail, “I don’t know much about hair, but I can do this. Mother will have a fit if you come out having done nothing with your hair. You’ll make the impression that us Schnee’s lack sophistication.” I _know_ that, of course, but the woman who usually does my hair, Cora, called in sick. Which is a blatant lie, everyone knows she’s been running around with some poor fellow she met at a bar. I’d bet my life that’s she’s out with him tonight. Abandoning her duties, not I’d ever expect anything less from a middle class parasite. But Whitely doesn’t keep up with my appointments, so of course he knows nothing about her recent abandonment. He just assumes I made no plans. And I wish I could tell him, I _wish_ I could talk to him about her. Complain a little.

Sometimes, I really fucking hate being mute.

”There,” he stands back. My hair looks fine. It’s a ponytail, so it’s not exactly spectacular, but there’s no bumps and it gives off a modern, working-girl vibe. Trendy, or at least I can manage to make it look trendy. I nod and smile. A smile he doesn’t return. He pats my shoulder once, and walks out of the room without another word.

I know he doesn’t want anything to do with me. No proud family wants a disabled member, it makes the bloodline look weak. And maybe he’s thinking about how it’s been twelve years since the incident. I wonder if he remembers what my voice sounded like. I don’t.

When I leave my room, the hallway is dark. It’s usually dark, nobody ever walks down it but me, and that’s only to get to my room. Every door leads to a room that’s unused. One bathroom, two guest bedrooms, a study, and a storage room, none of which have been properly used in twelve years. Lining the wall across from the entrance to my room, are five large portraits, taken by a once famous photographer, whom’s name has escaped me. One picture of each member of my family. Taken when I was four, they reflect our youths. The time before the incident. Two pictures hang in black frames, a tradition for the dead. Father and Winter, I can barely remember either of them. 

Looking at the pictures is like looking into the eyes of fate.

I can remember the way I looked at these pictures, when I was younger. Winter, the wall. My sudden responsibility as her replacement.

It’s only by chance that my frame is gold and not black.

I quickly exit the hallway and head to the white room.

The white room is one of our greatest entertainment spaces. It’s large, built like a Victorian ballroom, with a door leading in on each of the four walls. A large chandelier, modeled after the ones in A. L. Webber’s famous performances, hangs at the top of a cover ceiling. Across from the north entrance that I walk through, I can see a long dinner table covered in tonight’s dishes. At the corner of the west and north walls, a set of a dozen tables are pulled out for guests to eat at. In the middle, a group of people dance to waltz music. The most striking feature, however, is the pure white color of every object in the room. The walls, the ceiling, the tablecloths and floor tiles. True to it’s name, Father had this room built to reflect the hair color of the Schnee family, just another remark on our proud heritage. As such, it’s the room we use when hosting our more powerful guests. I can already see general Ironwood, one of the country’s most prominent military leaders, speaking the my mother across the room.

“Ah, dear Weiss.” Hei Xiong is quick to approach me. It seems he hasn’t changed.

I smile at him as he approaches me. Hei, better known by his friends as ‘Junior,’ is seen in the media as the owner of a chain of bars and restaurants, gaining fame for a playboy lifestyle. To our family, however, he is a valuable source of information.

”Are you enjoying yourself?” I nod. “I see the uh.. ponytail you’ve chosen to wear tonight. Very modern.”

 _Fuck off._ Junior’s never been one for smooth-talking. 

I just nod at him again. 

”Care to dance?” He extends his hand.

I _don’t_ want to dance with Hei Xiong, but I don’t exactly have a choice either. I grit my teeth, smile once again, and take his hand. 

Dancing is easy. I’m better than him at it, but I allow him to lead as we move slowly across the floor. The music, at least, is pleasant. Slow, gentle, and admittedly quite repetitive. It’s a little bit claustrophobic, both the large group of people dancing around me, and trying to move in the restrictive, pearly white dress I’m wearing.

He leans in closer to me, “You know, there’s been whispers going around about the Schnee family.”

I tense up.

Somewhere else in the world entirely, a band begins to warm up before a great performance. This both does and doesn’t have anything to do with me. 

”They say that some of the Schnee family’s old... connections... are reappearing.”

Something in me immediately wants to push him away. To run. _Run, girl, run away._ My throat feels closed up, and suddenly I am being suffocated by the air around me. 

”I don’t know the credibility of these rumors, but keep a look out. We don’t want something like that car crash happening again.” 

_Fuck. You. Fuck you so much, Hei._

He leans away, putting a normal amount of distance in between us. He doesn’t show any emotion on his face, it’s as unreadable as stone.

The song we dance to last’s ten minute in total, in traditional pretentious fashion. We don’t speak through the rest of it, just move together. I’ve lost my gracefulness, I’m stiff as the song finishes, and he lets me go.

I don’t give him a chance to say goodbye. I _leave._ I exit once more through the same doors and walk away. Through one hall, take a right, to the next hall. Past wandering chefs and performers, all of whole stare at me as I walk past. They know who I am, but they don’t stop to see if I’m alright. I’m sure they can read some expression on my face, something that tells them to stay away. But they are only half-real as I walk past them, just fast enough to not be running. 

I don’t even know how I end up here. In my hall. In front of the five pictures.

I stare at my four-year-old face. Round, smiling, pale. She doesn’t know anything. She’s a little kid. 

Winter, she’s to my left on the wall. She died months after these pictures were taken, when she was seven. Why do I still think of her as older? 

Whitely on my right. We used to be close.

Mother, beside Winter. She is smiling, with the new teeth that Father bought her. 

Father. Black frame. He looks menacing, even in photographs.

I’m staring into his eyes. Im staring into the eyes of fate. I am afraid. 

And then, somewhere a few yards away, I hear music. Nothing traditional, with class. This music is _loud and angry._ Rock music, the type my mother absolutely hates. I haven’t heard that type of music in so long. Quickly, I turn to the direction of the music, to see it’s source.

_And there are these moments, when the world around you changes. You make a decision without realizing it’s repercussions, without realizing how it will change you. But in these moments, you don’t know what happening. You just live through them. You just look at the source of the music, sitting on the floor a small distance from you, her head hung low. And you walk over to her.  
_

She’s got black hair that I can see, with large headphones on, the volume so loud that I can hear it. I tap her on the shoulder, and she looks up at me. She has silver eyes.

Somewhere else in the world entirely, a band begins to play its opening number.


	3. The Heiress in my Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to note that this story is viewed through multiple POVs

**Ruby**

  
When Yang abandoned me at the party, I admittedly kind of panicked.

I suppose it was an unfair reaction, the Schnee family had been so kind to host my father’s engagement party. I never knew he had connections with Willow Schnee, so when he told me we’d be visiting the Schnee manor, I’d been practically blown away. At the time I felt sure that I’d enjoy myself, but now, with all of the great grandeur, especially that surrounding my family, I only felt intimidated.

It didn’t help that nobody wanted to talk to me. I entered a room full of chatter and music and people dancing. It’s a social event, dammit. And you’d think that I’d be a subject of interest, as the daughter of the man this party was thrown for. But instead I was met with nothing, nobody approached me and I ended up leaning against one of the walls, watching other people have fun and feeling incredibly anxious. I should be happy, my father was going to get married, and we were in such a fine place. Instead all I was aware of was how my hair hadn’t been washed this morning and my dress was too big for me and I looked nothing like the type of people surrounding me. I lacked their practiced elegance. Their ability to look, and probably feel, like they were the most important people in the world. In their presence I was nothing. I was but a small girl in a room of gods. In the end, I felt sick, and I left.

I didn’t really have a direction I was headed towards, I just walked out of the room and down one of the elegant. I have to commemorate the Schnee family for their home, they presented a strong aesthetic beauty, with halls of white and pale blue, like their home was a castle of ice and not brick and stone. As I walked, butlers and maids ushered last me, sending me odd glances. I thought, at first, that they’d question me. Make me go back to the party room. Ask who I was, maybe even kick me out. But they didn’t say a word, only brushing past me. I guess they had more important jobs to do. 

After a certain point, I grew familiar with the house. It was large, and I hadn’t seen all of it, but the halls were all arranged in a similar fashion, with the most important rooms towards the ends and the least important in the middle. Every now and then I entered a larger room with a stairwell and balcony, but I never went upstairs. I don’t know why. It just felt like the second floor was more private than the first. More of an invasion. 

I finally stopped walking when I came across a long dead-end hall, where there were no servants around. There were several rooms, but I didn’t enter them, instead I looked at the walls. Five portraits were framed in the hall, each for a member of the Schnee family, in order of oldest to youngest. I recognized Jacques Schnee from the news many years ago, his death had been broadcasted nationwide. It took everyone by shock, for sure. After him was willow, and then a little girl I didn’t recognize but knew the name of. Winter. My father informed me that she had drowned as a child, jumping into a pool while nobody was around, not knowing how to swim. He said not to bring her up. After her image was a little girl and little boy, Weiss and Whitley. They were my age now, apparently. Probably dancing in that room right now. 

I bet they fit into all that grandeur. I wonder what that’s like.

Eventually I sat down, grabbed my phone and earphones from my pockets (big or not, the dress has pockets, god bless). Untangling the wires, I plugged in my music, turning the volume all the way up. In around two hours, the party would be over, and I would go find my family and leave. Until then I had Casey Lee Williams to distract my thoughts.

Listening to music is kind of like letting yourself go into a chosen haze. If you want to, you can focus while still listening to music, but you can choose to have it drown everything out instead. It’s always been so easy for me to let go of reality this way. Sit back and close my eyes and just be with the sounds. It’s a weird type of haze. But a good one too.

I open my eyes because I feel a tap on my shoulders, and I look up to see an angel standing over me.

On a second glance I immediately realize that she is _not_ an angel, just a girl who very much looks like one. She is leaned over slightly to look at me, her back still straight like a dancer’s, as if she’s been trained to appear perfect even when leaning. Maybe she has. Her hair is white, tied in a high ponytail that flows down over her left shoulder, and her complexion is so pale. She looks like a porcelain doll come to life, like you’d have to put blush on her face to make her look fully real. Everything about her is light, even her eyelashes are the same pearly white as the rest of her. Her dress matches the the theme with pale tulle puffed sleeves and a short ball gown skirt. The only color is in her eyes, a bright blue in comparison to her pale appearance. After a beat I realize she’s expecting me to say something.

I remove my earphones and look at her. “I-I’m sorry about this, I’m not trying to sneak around I swear,” my voice comes out a little high pitched, and when she doesn’t respond I continue, “I just got really overwhelmed by the party and nobody there was talking to me so I just kind of left and this, th-this hall was really quiet so, so I just came in here to get some peace. I swear, I’m the daughter of the man this party is for. Taiyang? That’s my dad, you can ask him.”

She straightens and pulls out her phone. I panicked immediately. She’s going to call somebody to come get me, to kick me out. Dad will be furious if knows that I was hiding away during his party. 

I’m quickly relieved, however, when she leans back down and hands me her phone instead. Hesitantly, I take it from her, and see that she’s opened her notes all and typed something in.

**I’m not going to get you in trouble, I believe you. I am Weiss Schnee, I live here, and I am mute. You’re sitting across the door to my room.**

Weiss Schnee. _Fuck.  
_

I look up at her and hand her phone back, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space.” She shrugs as a response, and smiles a bit to reassure me.

I am greatly surprised when she sits down next to me. She, of course, has to look elegant while doing it, moving like a trained ballerina. It must take a lot to still look proud and esteemed while sitting on the floor of an abandoned hall. She manages.

“Uh- my name is Ruby,” I start, slightly optimistic, sticking my hand out to shake. She hesitates before shaking it. How often does she slum in hallways with people like me? 

I wait as she types something new, it only takes a second. She shows me her screen. **It’s a pleasure to meet you. I also can get overwhelmed by these parties.**

Trying to smile, I say, “Is that why you came here? To get away from it?” She nods. “Well, I guess we’re stuck together.”

I get faint smile, and then **I guess we are.**

I’m not good at conversation, and I don’t know what to say next, so I do the next best thing. I offer her one headphone, “Do you want to listen?” She smiles more widely this time, like she couldn’t hide it, and puts one in her ear as I do the same. I hit play and close my eyes, leaning my head against the wall. After awhile, I get curious and open them, looking over at her. Her eyes are closed like mine were, and she’s manages to still sit with good posture, though know her back is leaned against the wall in chorus with mine. Her expression reveals nothing, only stagnant and calm. Maybe she is an angel, like I originally thought. She could’ve fooled me.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but at some point I fall asleep, dreaming of nothing but a pale girl dancing with me. We are alone in the ballroom, and she is dressed in a white tux, leading me as clumsily meet each step. But she doesn’t care, and we keep dancing. When I wake up, Weiss is gone, and Yang is perched on the ground besides me, shaking my shoulder. “Ruby, get up, and fix your hair. We’re leaving, and if Dad finds out you skipped his engagement party he’s going to throw a fit.”

  
I’ve never set a lock on my phone, was never allowed to. But when I open it up at home before I go to bed, I find my contacts app open, with a new number entered. I read the name, confusedly, several times. Eventually I close my phone again, and lay down, wondering what about me made Weiss Schnee want to give me her number.


	4. Rebel Girl

I look over, and Ruby is asleep. Her slight, pointed chin is tilted up as she rests her head against the wallpaper, and her dark eyelashes fall down over her face like a small forest canopy. She is the type of girl that Mother would have chosen for a modeling shoot, something that would gentrify alternative subcultures. Rebel women as the face of a campaign, with this girl front and center, sporting her chopped up black and red hair, her eyeliner that had just slightly too large of wings to be considered average sizes. I could tell, from the bumpy lines of black around her eyes, that she did her makeup herself, and that she wasn’t particularly good at it (no wonder nobody was talking to her.) But it managed, maybe more than anything else, to suggest a sense of nonconformity, a willingness to not fit in, even if not fitting in was exactly the sort of thing that made her anxious. Overall I saw that she was beautiful, the way a warrior is beautiful. Some part of me could see her playing a siren, singing her rock music songs and taking down all the men who dared look her way. Though her build might be small, something about her suggested that what was inside of her was much larger than what normal people had. She was almost overwhelming to look at.

It’s not really polite to fall asleep at parties, especially your father’s engagement party (I could recall, after her mention of Taiyang, Mother’s brief explanation of this particular parties purpose. Ruby’s father was actually quite irrelevant, Mother was more focused on pleasing his fiancée, some woman who’d recently taken over one of the country’s more prestigious schools.) However, I decided to take pity on her, some girl from the slums overtaken by the sophistication and elegance of the elites, and did not wake her as a quietly removed my earphone - still playing that raging music - and stood up beside her. Then I heard the ding of her phone.

Later, during that chilly night inside of the facility, I would fantasize about how my life might have been if I had just walked away. It would be the only time I betrayed my own sense of purpose surrounding Ruby Rose. 

I bent over and picked up her phone, saw a text message from a sender labeled ‘Yang.’

**Hey sis, where are you?**

It’s not really my fault that I noticed that she didn’t have a lock on her phone. When I opened it, I meant only to respond to who must have been her sister, texting back her location outside of my room. But as I closed her Messenger app, the clearing logo of her contacts spoke to me, practically begged me to open. And how could I resist, really, from entering my number into her phone? _Just in case she becomes I valuable connection,_ I told myself, turning her phone off and sliding it onto the floor at her side. 

It was only then that I turned and entered my room, loosening the hair tie around my ponytail and allowing my hair the rest down my back, released from its strict prison. Some part of me felt rather rebellious, having slummed it with a lower class girl, listening to alternative music and sitting on the floor. My mother would be sick if she ever knew I let myself loosen up in front of one of my ‘peers,’ even though I doubted I’d ever see that peer again. The thought made me kind of sad, for some reason I felt that if I missed out on this Ruby girl, she’d do something big that I’d have wished I’d been a part of. 

It didn’t make much sense, how she seemed so big. She was just another stranger, another girl to perform for, and yet she seemed to take up both her entire body and all the space surrounding it. Even as I stood in my room, away from her presence, she was consuming my thoughts. Traces of her had touched me, and they would never leave.

I tried to clear my head, glanced at the clock and saw the hour was late enough for it to be appropriate for me to go to sleep. So I went to the bathroom attached to my bedroom, brushing my teeth, removing my makeup, and changing into a long nightgown. Most nights I would put product in my hair, something to keep it from tangling too badly if I tossed and turned, but I still felt rebellious, and somehow leaving out this silly little part of my routine felt less like a simple lack of effort on my part and more like I direct slap in my mother’s face. Her rigid rules did not always consume me, I could say, sometimes I don’t put this oil in my hair like I’m supposed to.

By the time I had fallen into bed I felt ridiculous and embarrassed, thinking myself stupid for considering myself rebellious, when just moments ago I had been speaking to Ruby. Oh, she was shy, I thought, but everything about her screamed that she was a real rebel, the type that I could only yearn to be within the confines of my safe house. Whatever she had done, my small transgressions could not compare. I turned over onto my side, the thick comforter on top of me shifting ever so slightly, and I faced the door. I wondered, as my tired mind fell into sleep, if Ruby was still sitting outside my room, or if her sister had come to collect her. She would wake up with my number in her phone, with memories of me sitting beside her, with an idea of what must have happened. Would she be glad, to have a way to contact me? Or would she not care? I didn’t know why it mattered, she was just some stranger. But she was a very pretty, rebellious stranger, and every part of me was secretly hoping that I’d awake with a text message from her on my phone.

—-

I didn’t awake to a text from Ruby, but rather from footsteps outside of my doorway. I checked the time on my phone, just last one in the morning. By now the maids should have retired, as well as all of the party guests, who surely would have left for their own mansions. I really shouldn’t have cared at all, but in such a predictable environment like what I lived in, the unpredicted footsteps piqued my interest.

I roused from my bed, sneaked over to the door and opened it ever so slightly. I could hear murmuring, muffled voices quieted by their own intention. Whoever was speaking did not want to be heard. I closed the door, pressed my ear against the wood and listened as intently as possible. 

”No, the only person in this hall is Weiss Schnee, and she is supposedly a very heavy sleeper. Besides, the rest of the house will be invaded by late night hookups and servants retiring to their quarters. This is the safest place to talk. _Now have you brought it?_ ” 

”Yes, but it’s still not steady. Using it right now might prove disastrous. We _must_ wait until we have a successful prototype, or else this operation might explode into public view before we’re ready.”

”Now Sienna, you let me worry about keeping all of this underground. We need some type of prototype right now, or else our next step will have to be put off for a long time. We’re talking years, Sienna, possibly decades. We have to start making moves now.”

”This could destroy us if it doesn’t work.”

”We don’t have another option.”

A heavy sigh. “Alright.” I hear something like glasses bumping against each other, the faint chink that rings slightly after making a toast. “I must go, there is no reason to linger, and I know Adam will be anxious to hear the results.”

”You out too much faith in that boy.”

”As you put too much faith in Cinder. Now, I really must be leaving.” A pair of footsteps, quiet and precise, trailed out of the hallway, and after a minute of waiting, a second pair trailed after her.

Some sort of eagerness swallowed me, and with a stumbling hand and clumsy ferocity, I yanked my door open and stepped out into the hallway.

I immediately felt nausea rise in my stomach, but I forced down anything that might have been trying to come up. Down the hall by only a few steps, I watched as Roman Torchwick turned towards me. He looked the same as he did when I was a child, bright orange hair, a white trench coat and a dark cane. He smiled, and I shivered.

”Weiss,” his voice oozed with fake affection, “what a pleasure to be seeing you, I had a feeling you might overhear something. Do me a favor, okay, and don’t tell you mumsey about whatever you think you heard tonight. We wouldn’t want a repeat of that _accident_ , after all.”

He turned away. He left the hall, and presumably the house. I ran to my bathroom and threw up into the bowl of the toilet. For a second I was back in the room I last saw Torchwick in, a rope wrapped around my heads tearing into my mouth. A man in a mask standing over my body with a scalpel. Roman cooing ironically about how he’d miss my singing voice, when everything was over.

I passed out on the cold bathroom floor, lying in my own sweat and tears. 

I dreamed of my father.


	5. Pink Triangle

**Nora**

In the best of words, Clover was pissed. It was the second time this month that the band had cancelled on him, and I was pretty sure he would be less welcoming whenever we tried to book his venue again. I’d had to call him over the phone to let him know that Jaune and Ren were “not doing well,” and wouldn’t be able to play their parts, so we wouldn’t be able to play for him. He said that he’d have hired Funky, our rival band, if he wanted somebody to cancel on him last minute. Then, he hang up, and I set my phone down.

I was lying in bed, and Pyrrha was beside me, her head tucked into my shoulder. She’d been crying for hours, and finally she had fallen asleep. I wanted to get up and change into pajamas, but was far too scared to wake her and have to watch her cry again. It always worried me whenever Pyrrha cried, because she only cried when things were really, _really_ wrong. 

And they were, of course. Really, _really_ wrong.

Jaune and Ren had gone missing about ten days ago, just disappeared without a trace. At first we had thought they’d taken some weekend trip and forgot to tell us, but after a week had passed, we knew we had to start looking for answers. Pyrrha was extremely torn up about it. Her and Jaune had been dating for more than two years, and they’d been living together for at least four months now. It wasn’t like Jaune to just leave without telling anyone, and she knew it better than I did. Ever since he’d left she’d been spending nights in my apartment, crying and talking to me, sleeping in my bed at night because she wasn’t used to sleeping alone. 

I hated that I liked it. 

Having her to myself, that is. I didn’t like worrying about Ren and Jaune - and I was worrying. But each night Pyrrha would wrap her arms around me and fall asleep with her body pressed against mine, and I would breath in and smell her Old Spice body wash. And I would think, as I had every day since we’d met in 7th grade, that I could fall in love with her. That maybe I already had. Now the nights would pass as I lied with her, thinking about a reality where she loved me, that we shared a bed because we were _more than friends._ But morning would come and she would wake up early, and by the time I was up, she was gone, and the bed was empty and cold. 

Pyrrha had been spending the past four or five days trying to find out where Jaune and Ren had disappeared to, to no avail. We’d considered going to the police, but had yet to decide whether or not the situation was really that serious. She’d driven to visit their parents, and then went to talk to their other friends and teachers. She tried to get into Ren’s phone, which we found lying on a table when we’d looked for him at his house, but Ren had a set a lock on his phone, and neither of us had known it. Pyrrha had yelled at me that day, asking why I didn’t know his passcode, insisting that we were close enough that I must have had at least a guess. And I’d wished I did know it, that me and Ren were as close as Pyrrha thought we were, when in reality we’d been drifting apart since high school, when I told him I was gay, and unable to reciprocate his feelings for me. I didn’t know what he could have set as his passcode, and Pyrrha had broken down. I knew the stress was just getting to her, that her and Jaune were always so close and that she was missing him. But some part of me just couldn’t... connect. I was worried too, but just not as much as she was.

Now, lying with her, I was really only worried about how we’d make money if Clover stopped hiring us. He was one of our biggest venue’s, and he always booked us when we asked for it. If we lost him, we’d probably have to start looking for part-time jobs, and eventually everyone would have too busy a schedule to work on music. The band would fall apart. 

But it was out of my hands. I leaned my chin against the top of Pyrrha’s head, and let myself fall asleep.

—-

We were walking to the library today. She had her hand in mine, the way best friends hold hands. Pyrrha was in sweatpants and one of Jaune’s t-shirts that she’d stolen at some point. Her red hair was tied up in a ponytail, messy and unbrushed. As a child, Pyrrha had been an actress, a job she retired from after high school because she felt that the industry was too obsessed with beauty. But remnants of the job had stuck with her, one of which being the practiced, expressive-but-not-too expressive way she moved. Our hands swung, but only lightly, and she walked with a straight back and slightly raised chin, looking to the world like a woman with a purpose. Which she had, of course.

We reached the library just pass noon, and Pyrrha rushed me to the computers. As of yesterday, she’d heard from one of the students that an old gang from the city was gaining power after nearly a decade of hiding in the shadows. I’d told her that there was no way Jaune and Ren were involved, but she’d wanted to be sure, wanted to check the records of both of their families. 

”You sit here, Nora, and look up stuff about Ren’s family.”

”Adopted family, he’s an orphan, remember?”

”Why would that matter?”

”I don’t know, aren’t you supposed to have, like, a super-clean record to be able to adopt a child? I’m pretty sure an ex-gang member wouldn’t be able to make it past all the checks they do.”

”Then maybe it has something to do with his birth family.”

”They didn’t even live in Atlas, Pyrrha, they lived in Mistral. How could they be connected?”

”I don’t know, Nora, just please look.”

”Okay, okay,” I brushed her worried look away with the wave of my hand, and she disappeared to talk to the librarian about Jaune, who’d used to hang out here on weekends before he disappeared.

I do wish I had found something on the computers, but I didn’t. I didn’t know anything about Ren’s birth family, and looking up his adoptive father and mother’s names only brought up an old newspaper article about a Girl Scouts project and a magazine covering student’s with exceptional athletic abilities. It was a little frustrating, but mostly I didn’t mind. Maybe something was wrong, that I was so relaxed about all of this. Sure, there was a surface level layer of worry, but once I got past that, what was there? Nothing. It felt like nothing.

”Hey, Nora.” I looked up unto the face of Neon, standing at my right. She was the drummer for our rival band, Funky, and she was -admittedly- very talented. 

“Hi Neon.”

”I heard you cancelled of Clover last night.”

”Ren and Jaune aren’t feeling well right now, they couldn’t play.”

”That’s too bad. Flint says he’s not surprised that you didn’t show, he thinks you guys are going to burn out.”

”That jerk,” I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Flint was always looking for ways to get a jab in about our band.

”Yeah, I know. I’ve gotta go, can’t be caught ‘conspiring with the enemy,’” she made little quotation marks with her fingers, “Bye, I guess. I liked your pin.” With that, she turned and stalked away.

The denim jacket I’d been wearing had a small pin on the collar, a pink triangle. 

I smiled, and went back to work on the computers.


	6. Messages, Part One

Ruby texts me every day. I would like to think that I’m not being affected by it.

But then the ringer on my phone goes off ( _when did I start taking my phone off silent mode?_ ) and I’m reaching for my pocket or my purse or wherever I left my phone at to check my messages with a swift feeling of urgency. She texts me at seemingly random hours, on whatever whim she has, about a subject that I usually don’t really care about, but suddenly do care about, because it’s her texting me about it. Mother says that she’s thinks it’s good I’ve made a friend, even though she’s only met Ruby once she’s assured me that the girl must be a good influence. Whitely thinks I should make friends in higher places. I don’t know what it is about me that makes her want to text me, and I’m a bit taken back with how frequently she feels comfortable sending messages. Ruby came into my messages (or life) very suddenly, and throttling towards me at full force.

_at 1:32 a.m._

**r: how old is your brother ???**

**w: 15. Why are you asking about him?**

**r: im trying to figure out if i saw him**

**r: what does he look like**

**w: He looks like me if I was a boy. Short white hair, blue eyes, all the normal Schnee traits.**

**r: ‘schnee traits’**

**w: They’re traits that run in the family.**

**r: yeah i guessed that**

**r: i dont think i saw him. i was to busy w u.**

**r: u should introduce us**

**w: You wouldn’t like him. He’s a bit of an ass about poor people.**

**r: im not poor**

**w: You’re poor in comparison to us.**

**r: rude**

**w: If you think that’s rude than you DEFINITELY won’t like Whitely.**

**r: whatever**

**r: gn**

_at 4:41 pm_

**r: just woke up and i feel rly bad**

**r: like the type of bad that u skip school about**

**r: im skipping school. my dad isnt home rn so he cant make me go**

**r: do u go to school or like a private school or what**

**w: I was homeschooled. Though, private school is still school, too, you know.**

**r: yeah but its like a dif experience from normal school**

**w: How?**

**r: idk like school culture ig. i can’t imagine going to a private school where boys are flinging food across the cafeteria**

**w: I guess not. I’ve never been so I can’t confirm or deny.**

**r: yeah  
**

_at 10:23 pm_

**w: My brother just lectured me about how distracted I’ve been. Because of you.  
**

**r: ooh Weiss texted me first**

**w: I can text you first.**

**r: yeah but u never did before**

**r: im not getting you in trouble with ur bro or anything am i**

**w: No. He just wants something to nag at me about.**

**r: k**

**r: does he not like me**

**w: Whitely doesn’t like anyone. Especially poorer people.**

**r: im not poor** **! :(**

**r: im middle class**

**w: PoorER. He doesn’t see the point in being friends with somebody unless the friendship benefits him.**

**r: sounds dumb**

**w: Agreed.**

“Weiss, will you put your phone away?”

I turn off my phone quickly, tucking it into the pocket of my trousers. Whitely is glaring at me from across the table. It’s Thursday night, six days after the party where I met Ruby. Thursday nights are for family dinners, we’re supposed to bring ourselves together and bond a bit before our Friday parties, or at least that’s the idea. Thursday dinners are usually filled with awkward silences between Mother and Whitely, and small-talk conversation until Mother gets tipsy and the maids escort her to her room for the night. I don’t fully understand why we still pretend to enjoy these dinners, but Whitely thinks it’s important that I’m engaged in the conversation, no matter how boring or awkward it is. Being a Schnee, apparently, is about putting up appearances even when there isn’t an audience.

I don’t know what’s made me so bitter tonight. I’m usually fine for dinners, indifferent. 

My phone dings. Once, twice, three times in a row. Three messages from Ruby that I can’t open, not while Whitely is looking at me _like that_. There’s no point in pissing him off further.

Mother smiles at me, sensing tension. “You know, even though Ruby’s father is middle-class, he’s going to be marrying into a sizable fortune. Miss Goodwitch’s family has a very respectable reputation, especially in Vale.” 

”Right, Mother,” Whitely stops glaring at me for a moment to turn his head towards our mother, “I only wish that Weiss would take caution with this girl. This whole friendship seems a bit overeager to me. Weiss went from being a stranger with Miss Rose to being nearly best friends overnight. I don’t want her to be taken advantage of.”

Can we not talk about this? I want to yell at them for discussing my life in front of me while knowing that I can’t say anything back. I want them to stop acting like they deserve to get a choice in my relationships. So what if Ruby and I talk a lot? That doesn’t mean she’s trying to play me, that just means we’re getting to know each other. I’m allowed to get to know somebody. I look down at my plate, roasted chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans and cauliflower purée. Suddenly I feel very full.

”If Ruby begins to act suspiciously, we can take care of that then. Weiss has found a friend, that’s a good thing.”

”A friend she barely knows.”

I see my mother roll my eyes, and take a sip of the dark, red wine in her glass. I pretend that the sip was shorter than it was.

I play with my food, barely eating, through the rest of dinner. Whitely changes the subject to finances, then to his studies (going exceedingly well, especially in his French history class), then to the guests arriving tomorrow evening, then back to finances again. By the end of it, I can tell he’s just talking to fill the air with noise. Mother slowly gets more and more drunk over the course of half an hour, and by the time she’s finished eating, we have to have a servant help her keep balance as she goes back to her room, which is so typical. Whitely doesn’t acknowledge that anything is wrong with this. I know he feels guilty for the way she behaves at these dinners.

But it’s not really his fault that he looks so much like Dad.

I stand after a few minutes of watching the door Mother walked out of, and Whitely mutters a quiet goodnight as I leave the room. I run off to the hall with the five pictures, and then, finally, I take out my phone and check my messages.

**r: btw my dad wants u to come over for like a visit**

**r: he wants to meet u ig**

**r: i can send u the address. does tomorrow work? ik it’s last minute**

I don’t think before I reply.

**w: I would love to.**

**r: cool**

**r: also ive been talking abt u to my dad if that wasnt obv**

**r: sorry if thats weird**

**w: It’s fine. I tell my family about you too, hence Whitely’s aforementioned opinions on us.**

**r: wat do u tell them**

**w: That you never stop texting me and you won’t leave me alone.**

**r: shut up**

**r: u probably tell them abt how cool i am and how u looooovvveee talking to me**

I feel a smile crawl onto my face in spite of myself. 

**w: Keep thinking that.  
**

**r: i will**

**w: I have to go.  
**

**r: k, ill send u a link w info for tomorrow in a sec, need to talk to yang first**

**r: bye**

**w: Goodbye.**

It’s a little past eleven now, and most of the manor is empty. Servants won’t be sweeping this hall until tomorrow morning, so it’s all private for the next seven hours or so. 

I didn’t forget about seeing Torchwick on Friday night, and I didn’t forget about the conversation I overheard. I’ve been trying to push away thoughts of him during the daytime. But at night...

When the manor is dark.

And I am alone.

And nobody is watching me.

Torchwick is the only thing that I think about. And not just think about. Act upon.

The Schnee family has a dark history with certain gangs, certain vigilantes and certain terrorists. And we’ve always had to hide that history from public view; my mother tore herself away from that history when my father died. She didn’t want a part of it. 

This manor was built _for_ the Schnee’s. Designed for us, tailored to my great-great-great-great grandfather’s whim. It was built to be a place to hide our secrets, our dirty business, to keep our more undesirable guests entertained away from the eyes of a gossiping servant. That’s where the tunnels came from.

I lift my father’s portrait from the wall, struggling for a second with the hefty frame before setting it down on the floor with a soft thump. My father has an office towards the opposite side of the manor, which is filled with books and semi-important files. But his _real_ office, the one that he did most of his business from, was hidden from plain sight. Hidden from everyone, including Mother, including me. I press against the wall where my father’s portrait had hung, until I feel something give, and slowly a small, doorway-shaped section of the wall gives way beneath my weight, and I step into the history that my Mother is trying so hard to escape from.

I step into the secret tunnel system of the Schnee Manor.


End file.
